Grim Defeat
by eloquentlyinsane
Summary: An imagining of Chapter 9 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Grim Defeat from Dumbledore's POV. One-shot.


_**A re-imagining of Chapter 9 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Grim Defeat from Dumbledore's POV. One-shot.**_

_Just something I've been working on. Just a note also, that I've been working on another little HP one-shot. Hopefully, it'll be ready by Christmas. BUT DON'T WORRY, I'M STILL WORKING ON _THE RED RIDER_!_

_Xoxo —ei_

__******Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.******__

* * *

><p><em>GRIM DEFEAT<em>

I touched my napkin to my mouth and, with a satisfied sigh, untucked my beard from under my belt and leaned back in my chair as I looked out over the rows of tables in the Great Hall.

It had been decorated with hundreds jack-o-lanterns that were posed in a variety of expressions, some cheerful, some ominous, and some—I was certain Peeves had carved—were rather rude. The candles had burned very low by now, giving the pumpkins' jagged expressions an eerie look. A cloud of fluttering live bats and a flew in formation high above the heads of the students while a murder of crows swooped around the staff table.

The chatter was beginning up again as the students were slowly finished with the feast.

"I must stop by the kitchens," I told Minerva. "The staff have really outdone themselves tonight. Perhaps, I could tempt you with a nightcap?"

She looked sharply at me. "I think not," she said dryly. Minerva was not one for tawdry festivities.

Her face looked strangely hawk-like as she stared over the heads of the students, ready at a moment's notice to quell an outbreak of unsuitable cheer.

"Really, Professor McGonagall. If not now, when? If not me, then who?"

She rolled her eyes.

"If not where—"

"Perhaps, another time," she said peevishly.

"I shall hold you to that, my dear."

At this, the platters of food slowly began to vanish across the hall. Slowly, the students surged to their feet in small packs and began to return to their dormitories.

The rest of the staff at my invitation agreed to one last drink in the staffroom. Remus, however, excused himself quietly.

Severus, eyes narrowed and beady, watched Remus leave, a look of severe loathing on his face that could have matched the one he usually reserved for Harry.

I noticed that a few of the other teachers watched Remus walk away with profound mistrust in their eyes.

It was really quite ridiculous, this bigotry. As if being around Hagrid couldn't erase their prejudices. Then again, I reminded, none save the order knew the truth about Hagrid's mother. And they had no reason to trust Remus as I did, Severus least of all.

Although in truth, it most likely wasn't Remus himself who evoked so much of Severus' hatred. But Remus' mere presence must certainly recall memories, painful ones, of their shared time at Hogwarts. Memories of Sirius and James, who everything else they had been, had never been kind to Severus.

Of Lily…

"Professor Dumbledore!"

A young boy came racing up the corridor. He was shouting.

"_Professor Dumbledore!"_

It was Colin Creevey.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He cried as he reached me. "Portrait…Fat Lady…she's…gone…" He managed to wheeze.

"Mr. Creevy, why are you causing such a racket?" Minerva said to him, rather prunily.

The portraits often like to visit each and bringing them back was a routine tasks for the prefects and Head boys and girls, so I was surprised that Percy Weasley, ambitious and power-hungry as he was, had so willingly let this escape his hand.

"I think she was a-a-attacked, Professor Dumbledore!" Colin said tremblingly.

I caught a glimpse in his mind of a blank, ink-drenched canvas, intermingled with scenes of his mother screaming.

"Lead the way, Mr. Creevy."

The corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady and opened up to Gryffindor Tower was jammed with students. They flew aside as I came up the walk.

Unlike in the Great Hall, the students were ominously silent, waiting with bated breath as I drew closer.

In my wake, I heard Minerva gasp behind me as I swept up to the portrait hole.

It was a sight indeed.

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

I touched one of the fray edges. No magic. This was simply a knife.

I turned back to Minerva as Severus and Remus came hurrying up in the rear.

They glanced from the appalled students to me to the desecrated portrait and they looked very somber and grave.

"We must find her," I said calmly. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

She departed at once.

There was a _whoosh_ above us and then a gleeful cackle: "You'll be lucky!" Peeves was bobbing over the crowd and looking simply delighted at the sight of the ruined picture.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" I asked.

Peeves's grin faded a little.

His voice modulated itself; he no longer sounded taunting. Instead, he adopted an unctuous, obsequious tone. "She's ashamed, your _Headship_, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful…poor thing," he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" I asked him.

"Oh yes, _Professorhead_," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms.

"And?"

"He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at me from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that _Sirius Black_."

It was pandemonium.

Several girls screamed. Several of the younger students panicked and tried to run. The resulting pileup ensured that corridor was blocked.

"Please!" I called loudly.

The students froze where they were.

"Please remain calm and follow your Head Boy and Girl back to the Great Hall. In an orderly fashion."

"Come along!" Percy Weasley shouted at once, his voice positively quivering with powerdrunk giddiness . "Follow me, single-file Gryffindors! No running. Quickly and quietly now."

When the corridor had cleared, Severus and Remus approached.

"I have sent Minerva to have Filch search for the Fat Lady. Severus, I ask that you go to the staffroom and tell the others what has happened. I find it difficult to believe that Sirius Black was actually here, but we must search the castle nevertheless. Remus, come with me."

Severus didn't move. He stood there with a mulish look on his face, his body shaking with repressed indignation and probably the pressure of holding in a triumphant "I TOLD YOU."

"Severus—the staff room," I prompted him.

And with a cold look and a swish of his cloak, he vanished around the corner.

Remus turned to me. "Albus, perhaps I should go with Severus and—"

"Remus." He fell silent.

"I must go and address the students, but before I do so..."

His face became rather stoney.

"I know you must ask me, Headmaster. Go ahead."

"I asked you this before the start of term. And I believed you. But I would be doing my charges a disservice if I did not ask you again, Remus. I hope you will humor me."

He nodded.

"Are you in contact with Sirius Black?"

"No."

"Did you give him any information or advice on how to enter this castle?"

"No."

"Or on how to hurt Harry?"

"_No!_"

"Thank you for your honesty, Remus. I apologize for my insensitivity. I must address the students now. Meanwhile, you need to take your potion. But afterwards you, Severus, and I will need to comb every passageway you remember James and Sirius and Peter sneaking off into."

Minerva will lead the staff among the rest of the castle. But we must be especially diligent."

"You really think it was Sirius then, Albus?" His eyes flickered in the dimness of the corridor, but they seemed hopeful, or perhaps disappointed?

"If it is Sirius, then rest assured we will be encountering him again. I never knew such a tenacious, single-minded boy but him. If he had only applied that drive to his O.W.L. exams."

Remus smiled.

"Remus," I said heavily. "If it is Sirius, and he returns, this time to attack Harry, or another student, I need your promise that you will do what it takes to subdue him. In spite of your past friendship. In spite of what James may have wanted. In spite of whatever he may say to goad you. Do you understand what I am saying?"

-x-

All four houses had congregated in the Great Hall by the time I had returned, most looking extremely confused, though the students closest to the Gryffindors had expressions of horror on their faces.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," I told them.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall.

"I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boys and Girls in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," I added to Percy Weasley who was standing closest to me, looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

I waved my hand and the long wooden tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

Before I left, I caught a glimpse of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were standing off to one side, talking in undertones, looking very beleaguered indeed.

The teachers were waiting for me outside the Great Hall. Remus, looking rather pale and nauseous. A large vein was throbbing in Professor Vector's forehead. And Professor Sprout was looking rather very nervous indeed.

"I do not think that Black would be foolish enough to remain in the castle, but, of course, we must search it thoroughly, for we may at least gain some idea of how he entered."

I directed the Heads to their domains to search and spread the rest among the various cardinal directions, until only Remus and Severus remained before me.

"I'm sure Remus has caught you up to speed on my plans for the three of us, Severus, so let us be off."

We set off. Between the two of them, Remus and Severus certainly a troubling number of unauthorized entrances into the school. We examined several tapestries, trick stairs, and finally a mirror on the 4th floor that opened into a room as large as any of the classrooms, but which had been caved in upon.

Remus leaned against the mirror and took a swig of the Wolfsbane from a flask.

"Albus, I reckon this is all of them. It was a good twenty years ago, but I can't recall any others we might have gotten up to."

Severus made a derisive sound like a scoff.

"Let us see if the others have had any luck." I said brightly as Remus turned to look at him.

Severus scoffed again.

"I wonder, Severus," I said, with as much patience as I could muster, "if you have any theories as to how Sirius would have managed to enter."

"Not presently, Headmaster," he said, straining to keep his voice even. "_Lupin?_"

Remus shot a furtive at me. "Neither do I."

-x-

The candles had been turned out in the Great Hall by the time I had returned. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with constellations.

It was largely silent save for the occasional bout of whispering that still filled the hall that swept through the room like a light wind.

When I returned, Percy darted toward me from a clump of squashy sleeping bags whose occupants he seemed to have been telling off.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy asked in a whisper. Despite the late hour, his eyes were bright and wary.

"No. All well here?"

"Everything under control, sir."

"Good. There's no point moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

The Gryffindors would not be pleased with Sir Cadogan, but Filch had been unable to convince any well-adjusted portraits to take up the post.

"And the Fat Lady, sir?" Percy prompted.

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently, she refused to let Black in without the password, bless her, so he attacked the painting. She's still very distressed, but once she's calmed down, Mr. Filch will restore her."

The door to the Great Hall creaked open and Severus, looking quite batty swooped down between the rows of sleeping students toward Percy and I.

"Headmaster, the whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery?"

"All searched."

"Very well, Severus. I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory _now _as to how he got in, Professor?" Snape asked me. He seemed to feel rather more free now that Remus was gone.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

The enchantments that protected Hogwarts were numerous and complicated. It was stretching the limits of my intellect to apprehend Black's entrance.

Snape's face furrowed. My ambiguous response seemed to have cowed him.

"You remember the, er, _conversation_ we had, Headmaster, just before, ah, the start of term?" said Snape, who was barely opening his lips, as though trying to block Percy out of the conversation.

Percy was watching the two of us, rapt with attention, eager face shining in the moonlight.

"_I do_, Severus," I said firmly.

Severus leaned forward, his voice but a hiss. "It seems almost impossible that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns whet, you appointed—"

"I do not believe a _single_ _person_ inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," I said resolutely.

He did not respond, simply watching me, with a resentful expression. It bothered him that I did not take his suggestions about Remus seriously, but how could I, tainted by hatred of a schoolboy's vengeance as they were.

Severus was not particularly adept at separating his emotions from his reasoning.

"Then, I must go down to the dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Why didn't they assist in the search? Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy asked, bounding by my side as I walked out.

"Oh, yes. But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Minerva was waiting for me, outside the Great Hall, deep in conversation with Flitwick, discussing additional spells they might add to the castle's protective enchantments.

"Nothing has turned up, Albus," she said. "We will keep searching, but I doubt—"

"There is no need for that, Minerva. Sirius Black is not a fool. He is no longer on the grounds. The staff may retire. I will go see to the dementors."

"Albus, there is one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I think it is wise that we tell Potter about Black." She faltered as I turned to face her. "Not all of it, of course. The truth is…horrible, I could not bear to tell him myself. But at least, why Sirius Black was here tonight—for him."

"We don't know why he was here tonight, Minerva." I reminded her gently.

"Potter is a good boy, but, Albus, he can be rash and foolhardy. He is easily goaded into things. For Merlin's sake, he's saved the Weasley girl last by entering a basalisk's lair; he fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in first year! The number of time I could have caught him out of bed—he can't do that this year, Albus!"

"You're right. You should tell him, Minerva. He ought to hear it from you rather than from the students. If anything, he will tell Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger and if he is not afraid, they will have the common sense to be."

More than a hundred dementors were aligned on the grounds as I swept out of the castle.

_Aberforth…Albus…_

I glanced up at the night sky. It was pitch black as though the stars had blinked out of existence.

_Albus, stop it! Leave each other alone!_

_Leave us alone, Albus! You never wanted to be here!_

The night air, chilly in October, was downright glacial.

The sounds of dueling echoed in my ears—a long hollow scream—

"Sirius Black is not in the castle. Our search is complete. It is possible he is on the grounds, but not likely."

_Ariana! Ariana! Albus, she's not moving—why would—did you try to kill me?_

"You may return to your posts."

_You! You killed her! Ariana! Darling, please—ARIANA!_

"_You should have let usss sssearch the ssschool…" _Its voice was raw, like someone who had screamed himself hoarse—and scaley, like the sound of fingernails along a chalkboard—the sound of the hopeless.

"Expecto patronum."

The voices quieted.

-x-

There was no further news on Sirius.

A second search of the castle during the day turned up nothing.

Remus was nowhere to be found, as he slept off his transformation in his quarters, the door barred against intruders, just in case. Severus had eagerly agreed to take his classes, citing experience though I was sure his actual rationale was none so wholesome.

As November progressed, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The gale outside pounded the windows.

The weather was a talking point among the students and teachers as the Quidditch match approached.

Severus was only too eager to tell anyone who would listen how much of a pity it was that Slytherin would no longer be playing in their much anticipated match against Gryffindor, but rather Hufflepuff.

The morning of the match dawned gloomy, windy, and drizzly.

Early as I was, I saw Harry enter the deserted Great Hall for breakfast, looking rather peaky and nervous. He seemed to revive over a bowl of porridge as the rest of Gryffindor arrived aside him.

Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went.

I walked down with the rest of the staff, the rain pelting us and then bouncing off the charms we had cast.

Nothing could be heard over the howling wind. The gale was so strong that the teams staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, it was masked by the continuous rolls of thunder.

Harry was a lone figure straggling behind his team, the wind buffeting him viciously from side to side.

The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands and they separated to mount their brooms.

I saw Madam Hooch raise the whistle to her lips and a split second later, fourteen brooms rose into the air.

They darted in various directions, teetering in the wind.

I marveled that they could keep track of their own movements let alone their occupatory objects.

The Weasley twins were a marvel. Identifiable by their flaming red hair, they zoomed around the pitch, preceded by the bludgers, which found their unfortunate Hufflepuff mark more often than not.

Harry was a distant figure on pitch.

Lee Jordan's commentary was lost in the noise from the wind and rain, though through snatches I caught the score.

"Wood has been scouted by the Puddlemere United," Minerva said from somewhere to my left.

"Why, that's wonderful!"

There was a flash of forked lightening that illuminated the pitch and I saw the players all touch ground. They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella.

"What's the score?" I called down to my right.

"Gryffindor is fifty points up," Severus called down the row of teachers, sounding sour.

Below, on the field, the players had flown off again, streaking in their respected directions.

Harry though held aloft in the air, staring fixedly, it seemed, into the stands, with moving for several moments as players darted around him.

And then, abruptly, he turned into a dive toward the middle of the pitch, away from the Gryffindor goal posts.

From the other end of the pitch, Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field, and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air high up above the field.

"Albus!" Flitwck shrieked from the row below. But he was pointing not at Harry nor the other players in the air, but at the ground nor the players.

In a moment, the rain had turned icy.

_Albus!_

At least a hundred dementors, their faces turned up at the players above, had amassed on the pitch.

_You killed her!_

"Albus!" Minerva grabbed my arm. "The boy!"

Harry had gone rigid, up two hundred feet above the ground on his broom.

I raced down between the rows of students who swept apart for my passing.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A huge silver phoenix shot out of the tip of my wand with a bang like a gun and flew toward the dementors.

Around me, the other teachers were conjuring their own patronuses to round up the dementors and herd them away from the pitch.

A cat, a doe, an elephant—Flitwick's—and a host of other silvery animals swooped down on to the pitch.

"Oh my god!" There was a scream from a first-year several feet away from me and then a collective gasp as we all looked up into the air.

Harry lolled sideways on his broom and then tipped over the side.

I felt the crowd surge to its feet, gasping and shrieking like a many-headed entity as Harry's body plummeted to the ground, gaining speed.

I could scarcely feel my feet beneath me as I sprinted down the stands and on to the grass, waving my wand before me so that black smoke curled out of the ends.

The tendrils met Harry, slowing his descent so that he was almost floating as he reached the ground. Poppy had joined me on the pitch, conjuring a stretcher to carry Harry up to the school.

The Gryffindor team landed behind the stretcher, rushing up to Harry's still body and touching his tensely.

The Hufflepuff team landed slowly, hesitantly behind them. Cedric Diggory stood unmoving on the pitch, watching Harry's processional as it trailed up the castle, until Madam Hooch blew her whistle in his ear to get his attention.

High above the pitch, without anyone noticing, a Nimbus Two-Thousand floated away into the distance.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Accio reviews!<em>**


End file.
